fast brad

I’ve been busy, plain and simple. Busy racing, busy at work and busy with a new project.

The long story…

Almost two weeks ago was the Mercer Cup USGP cross race. I spent the week prior getting the camper ready for two consecutive days of racing. A week out the weather looked great, until a little mid-week hiccup of rain lasted three days.

Mud, that’s all you need to know. Day one: I wasn’t feeling too peppy and didn’t register early enough so I started from the back. I actually had a pretty good first lap and by the end pushed my way into the low twenties—not where I had hoped to be, but it wasn’t a bad ride. Day two: It actually stated to dry out a little. By a little I mean it was thickening up in places and a line was starting to wear in. I had roughly the same start position, but I was able to get a good first lap. And then I kept my momentum up, passing people right up to the finish. Twentieth, if I had registered earlier and started a couple rows up, I might have made the top ten.

We camped at the venue with Ryan of Flanders and company, so the rest of the weekend was spent heckling riders. Ryan Trebon has the misfortune of a name close enough to “Rusty Trombone” that heckling him became a whole other form of sport. Add some beer and you’ve got non-stop hilarity—what more could you want? Apparently the answer to that question is “a midget, a racist grade school teacher and a coke dealing prostitute on probation.” Again, that’s all you need to know.

The week prior to that was race number four in the PACX series: Spring Mountain. I got the call up and a front row start which was perfect. An easy start slotting fourth at the first turn. The race went well and I controlled things as best I could. A few guys passed me up in one of the fast sections, but then I snaked some inside lines in the tight turns, put some power to the pedals and put some distance on them. I ended up third which I was pretty happy with.

I took this past weekend off racing. Saturday off the bike altogether, and Sunday rode out to the derby for sixty miles. Crap, the derby wrecked me. The longest ride I had done for the last three weeks was a little less than thirty miles. No rest for the weary, though… I got home and finished up the yard work for the season, picking up all the leaves. Which brings me to my new project.

I’ve spent a lot of time doing research the past couple of weeks. The end result after a couple hours work on Sunday night? A proto-type product that I’m not quite ready to share with the world yet. I’m pretty excited about it though. It seems to work pretty well and I think people will want to but it. In a couple weeks I should be ready to unveil it here. So check back, if you’re a cyclist training this winter, you might be interested.

Suffering²

Everything in South Jersey is sandy, and with the recent rain it was packed down pretty hard. So, the course was fast, really fast. I went in thinking this was a good thing—I’ve been improving steadily this season and I rode the last couple of Derbys really well, so I’m feeling a little confident about really rolling it. I wasn’t feeling too great, but that isn’t necesarily an indicator of how well you’ll perform.

Doubling up again in the Elite Masters and the Elite races, I was hoping to crack the top ten in the Masters if I had a good day. At the start they called up the first two rows and I managed to snake my way pretty far up as riders were called. With a good spot on the grid, all I had to do was get by maybe fifteen people to make it to the top ten.

I wasn’t expecting what my legs gave me, which was nothing. Usually I get a pretty good hole shot, passing a lot of guys off the start. Not today.

Okay, so it wasn’t the end of the world, it just meant I had to keep my head in it and the pressure on. There was some guy on a mountain bike with wide handle bars that I just couldn’t seem to get around. If I moved right, he did. If I moved left, he did. I was getting pissed, but the real issue was that my legs just weren’t going all that well.

Each lap the course goes down on the sandy beach, which they’ve softened with a tiller, for about fifty yards. I ride in without hitting the brakes, dismount at full speed and hoist my bike running. I pass mountain bike guy and a couple others. Okay, now we’re rolling, if I keep it up maybe I can salvage the day.

For two laps I reel guys in and pass them, mostly on the technical sections. There is a short sandy hill with one packed down line on the right where I can ride to the left in the loose sand and pass. The run up is through an amphitheatre with five steps about thirty inches high and fifteen feet apart. I know the rythym I need to hit and pass two guys there.

When I start to feel like I need to recover I decide to let the guy on my wheel take a pull only to learn the last four guys I passed have been sitting back there. Okay, we can work together. I drift to the back and try to keep an eye on things, make sure gaps don’t open up in the middle. The thing is, the only gaps start opening right in front of me. I just don’t have any top end today and three of the guys get away. I’m pushing as hard as I can, and I watch them slowly roll away.

For a couple more laps I fight for my place with a few guys. Some I catch and some that catch me. On the last lap I pass Fat Marc by the pits and wonder what happened to him today. I’m hoping he’ll jump on my wheel and push me a bit, but it seems like he’s already resigned with his lot for the day.

Twenty seventh, that’s where I ended up for the day. Not anywhere near where I wanted to be. Yozell won again, with a well timed attack just before the finish—congrats to him, he’s flying. Now to decide whether to go home or race the Elite. Who am I kidding, I know I’m going to race it, I’m just conflicted about sucking for another hour.

So, I’m sitting at the back in the Elite staging area trying not to look like too much of a fool when I get a call up. What?! You’ve got to be kidding me, might as well call the guy blabbing on the microphone up too… Normally with a good start, from the back, I can ride into the group a bit and hide in there for a little while. But this far up guys will be running me down—which is pretty much what happens. By the first turn I’m the last guy. I hang on for a bit, but by half a lap in I’m all by myself. I ride as hard as I can, and actually, riding really well—just not fast. I have all the lines dialed in, which will happen if you run enough laps I guess. The two leaders lap me with one to go, finally ending my suffering. I can’t help thinking “what took you so friggin’ long?”

Thanks to my brother Eric, who showed up to watch me suck wind. It had been a while, so it was good to see him regardless. Thanks to all my friends who cheered for me on the course, while I probably don’t look too happy, it does help me keep my head together. They say you’ll have good days and bad days. I think someone owes me a good day.